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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722120">Can I Bring Someone?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrogateBelmont/pseuds/HarrogateBelmont'>HarrogateBelmont</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Home for the Holidays [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AlreadyPlanningfortheHolidays, F/M, NotEvenHalloweenYet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:56:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarrogateBelmont/pseuds/HarrogateBelmont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Strike's sister Lucy is pressuring him to commit to plans for the holidays. Will he start some new traditions?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucy &amp; Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Home for the Holidays [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bromley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I originally posted this, and then ended up writing additional stories in the series that followed a slightly different plot. Rather than delete or edit it, I'm just turning this into a sort of Version A/Version B story, so that I have a version that fits with the future chapters, but also leaves me an opening to complete the original. Confused? So, in this chapter, Lucy is planning to host the family at her house in Bromley for Christmas.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Strike’s phone dinged, and, looking for any excuse to stop doing what he was doing, he looked down and saw that his sister, Lucy, had texted him. He read her message quickly, and then put his phone back on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you planning for the holidays?” Strike asked Robin. They were in their inner office, the door half-open, and Pat had just stepped out for a smoke break.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin was on her laptop, and had been mesmerized by the research for one of their cases all day. A client had hired them to research her family genealogy and to put together a dossier of photographs of various places where her ancestors had lived over the centuries. She looked up and blinked. “Is that a personal question or a work question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” asked Strike, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms high above his head. His afternoon research was much less interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does, because if you remember, we had decided to draw a boundary and not to mix business with pleasure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike leaned forward and nudged her foot under the table with his own. “That’s boring,” he said, frowning. “We can mix a little.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin grabbed his foot between her own and held it captive. “I’ll assume you’re asking because you want to know how much time off I want, so I’ll answer.” She paused. “I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Have you been uninvited to Masham?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin closed her laptop lid and gave a small laugh. “No. It’s just … last Christmas was awful there. My niece was a newborn and didn’t stop crying and my whole family was afraid I would have some sort of mental breakdown over Matthew and Sarah showing up in town. And, of course, there were the texts from Morris…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I kind of decided that I would try to avoid Christmas this year. Sounds awful, I know. I’m in a much better place right now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She pulled at his foot. “And I’m getting on really well with Mum and Dad. But I still have this dream of skipping Christmas and visiting later on in January for a long weekend, without the entire family around. I love my brothers, but I don’t really need to see them that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped for a moment, listening. But the noise he had heard came from outside. Pat was still downstairs. “Lucy’s persuaded Ted to come to hers for Christmas. I think she wants to start some new traditions, and I think it’s easier for everyone if she hosts in her house. Anyway, if you come with me, it’ll get you out of Masham, and it’s only a few hours, not a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin’s eyes were wide. “That means… we’d have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike felt a slight pang and a knot in his stomach. “I had assumed we would tell people eventually,” he said, somewhat defensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin stood up, and as she walked around the side of the desk, she pulled the door shut a little more. Leaning over him, she kissed him softly on the lips and said, “I thought you wanted to avoid the attention. But if you’re ready, I am.” Then, hearing Pat’s footsteps for real, she hurried back over to her side of the desk and resumed her position in front of the laptop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Strike picked up his phone and texted his sister back.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Good plan. Can I bring someone?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He winked at Robin as they heard Pat come through the door, and began slowly counting on his fingers, “One, two, three, four….” Strike’s phone rang out loudly. Grinning, he said, “I better take this upstairs,” and he stood up and started walking toward the office door as he answered the call.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pat, who was removing her coat as her employer walked past, heard him say, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be the detective, Luce.” In response, the woman on the phone squealed so loudly that it sounded as if she were in the room with them. Strike laughed, and said, "I'm glad you're happy," and although Pat tried to listen at the door, she learned nothing else as he climbed the stairs to his apartment.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. St. Mawe's or "Bringing someone with me"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A slightly different version of the story, where Lucy and Strike plan to spend Christmas in St. Mawe's at Ted's house.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I feel weird posting almost exactly the same story, but this one sets us up for a holiday visit to Cornwall and that's what I feel like doing right now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Strike’s phone dinged, and, looking for any excuse to stop doing what he was doing, he looked down and saw that his sister, Lucy, had texted him. He read her message quickly, and then put his phone back on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you planning for the holidays?” Strike asked Robin. They were in their inner office, the door half-open, and Pat had just stepped out for a smoke break.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin was on her laptop, and had been mesmerized by the research for one of their cases all day. A client had hired them to research her family genealogy and to put together a dossier of photographs of various places where her ancestors had lived over the centuries. She looked up and blinked. “Is that a personal question or a work question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” asked Strike, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms high above his head. His afternoon research was much less interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does, because if you remember, we had decided to draw a boundary and not to mix business with pleasure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike leaned forward and nudged her foot under the table with his own. “That’s boring,” he said, frowning. “We can mix a little.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin grabbed his foot between her own and held it captive. “I’ll assume you’re asking because you want to know how much time off I want, so I’ll answer.” She paused. “I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Have you been uninvited to Masham?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin closed her laptop lid and gave a small laugh. “No. It’s just … last Christmas was awful there. My niece was a newborn and didn’t stop crying and my whole family was afraid I would have some sort of mental breakdown over Matthew and Sarah showing up in town. And, of course, there were the texts from Morris…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I kind of decided that I would try to avoid Christmas this year. Sounds awful, I know. I’m in a much better place right now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She pulled at his foot. “And I’m getting on really well with Mum and Dad. But I still have this dream of skipping Christmas and visiting later on in January for a long weekend, without the entire family around. I love my brothers, but I don’t really need to see them that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped for a moment, listening. But the noise he had heard came from outside. Pat was still downstairs. “Lucy’s just texted to ask when I’m coming to Cornwall. She tried to persuade Ted to come to hers for Christmas, start a new tradition, but he really wants us there. Anyway, if you come with me, it’ll get you out of Masham, and <em>I’ll</em> have an excuse to stay at a B &amp; B and not sleep on the lumpy sofa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively, and saw Robin’s eyes grow wide. “That means… we’d have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> people,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike felt a slight pang and a knot in his stomach. “I had assumed we would tell people eventually,” he said, somewhat defensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin stood up, and as she walked around the side of the desk, she pulled the door shut a little more. Leaning over him, she kissed him softly on the lips and said, “I thought you wanted to avoid the attention. But if you’re ready, I am.” Then, hearing Pat’s footsteps for real, she hurried back over to her side of the desk and resumed her position in front of the laptop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Strike picked up his phone and texted his sister back.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Of course I’m coming. But I’m staying at a B&amp;B</b>
</p><p>
  <em>The boys will be disappointed, but I know the sofa is uncomfortable. </em>
</p><p>
  <b>That’s not why</b>
</p><p>
  <em>?</em>
</p><p>
  <b>Bringing someone with me</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He winked at Robin as they heard Pat come through the door, and began slowly counting on his fingers, “One, two, three, four….” Strike’s phone rang out loudly. Grinning, he said, “I better take this upstairs,” and he stood up and started walking toward the office door as he answered the call.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pat, who was removing her coat as her employer walked past, heard him say, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be the detective, Luce.” In response, the woman on the phone squealed so loudly that it sounded as if she were in the room with them. Strike laughed, and said, "I'm glad you're happy," and although Pat tried to listen at the door, she learned nothing else as he climbed the stairs to his apartment.</span>
</p>
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